The Greenshirt's Guide To GI Joe Life
by turbomagnus
Summary: Greenshirts are the Joe Team's support troops, lowest on the chain of command. Over time, they've developed this guide for survival, declassified for your reading pleasure.
1. Reville

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: Thanks to Tirya King for letting me use her idea of shorts based on Murphy's Laws. If you're a Transformers fan or just a military fan, you should read "The Grunt's Guide to Warfare".

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part one: Reville

---

"You can't do this to me... we're family."

"And as a soldier I have exactly two minutes in rank longer than you do... It's your mission."

Blaze looked at Havoc with a namesake fire in his eyes, "And he outranks both of us, I ain't doing it."

Fix-It looked up from his magazine, "Don't even think about telling me to do it, Sergeants or not Sergeants, I pulled this duty LAST time."

Beachhead groaned and shook his head, "I don't care WHO does it as long as someone does it!"

"Well," Blaze retorted, "Why don't YOU do it?"

"Let me rephrase that, 'I don't care who does it as long as someone BESIDES ME does it.'"

If it hadn't been a dangerous situation, Sci-Fi wouldn't have been able to control the humor in it, "We've got almost a century's worth of military experience here," he gestured to the younger Frontliners, "Plus these skilled kids, we should be able to handle it."

"Like that one nest of Vipers handled it?"

"Damn... you're right. Isn't there ANYBODY we can give the assignment to?"

As if contrived by some higher power, an occasional observer to the team entered the room.

"Some mission on the horizon?"

If Conrad 'Duke' Hauser had been paying attention, he would have noticed the predatory looks that came over the members of the Frontline team.

"Yes, you could say that," Ghostrider said, "Since you're standing, there's an important requirement for the mission in room C-2, would you mind retrieving it?"

Duke's thoughts involved comments about lazy soldiers not having all the needed equipment ready on time, but all he said was, "On it."

After he walked out of the room, Beachhead looked at Ghostrider and shuddered, "You're evil, Colonel."

"I know... four... three... two..."

"'PREPARE FOR TERMINATION!'" echoed through the corridors of the Pit

"Think we should have told him that the Major sleeps with a machete under his mattress and hates being woke up?"

"What? And ruin the surprise?"

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Decisions made by someone over your head will seldom be in your best interest.


	2. War Games

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: Reviews, already? Let's see...

MariaShadow: Probably would be.

Tirya King: Well, I'm trying to keep it where you don't need to know the details to enjoy it.

To all my readers, I can only hope that this chapter lives up to the last...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Two: Wargames

---

The G.I. Joe team had existed, off and on, for the past forty years, the U.S. Military as a whole for five times that, and rivalries were sure to develop - Army and Air Force, Navy and the Marines, each saying they could beat the other.

And after the last brawl that started as round number who-knows-what of Leatherneck versus Wet-Suit that escalated, G.I. Joe command had reached it's limit on tolerance. That was why a special meeting had been called.

At the head of the table, General Lawrence James Flagg, the third, known to friend and enemy alike as the Tomahawk, commanding officer of G.I. Joe. On one side of the table sat his Second in Command and honorary Marine, Major John T. Magnus, codename: "Turbo", Air Commander Colonel Bradley J. Armbuster, "Ace", and the team's Chief-of-Staff Corporal Charles Fine, "Sparks." Facing them from the other side were the Top Shirt, Sergeant Major Jessica Parker, "Athena", Chief Drill Instructor Staff Sergeant Wayne "Beachhead" Sneeden, and the head of the Motor Pool, Corporal Lance Steinburg, codename: "Clutch."

"We all know why we're here," Tomahawk began the meeting, "So I don't have to explain that... What I want is ideas on how we're gonna deal with this problem."

Over the years, Beachhead had learned how to lighten up slightly and it showed in his own response, "Back in Alabama we'd send 'em out behind the barn and let them fight it out."

"We'll... keep that in mind, Sergeant."

"No, wait... I think he's right," Turbo added, "What if WE'RE the problem? Maybe we should just give them a chance to beat each other senseless and see if that helps."

Under his breath he muttered something about wishing he could have done that to some of his old classmates.

"I see... and how were you thinking of doing this?"

"How about a war game? Capture the flag or something?" Ace asked.

Turbo gave a nod, "Sounds good to me. How about Marines and Army against Air Force and Navy, that way we have the opposing services against each other?"

It was no secret that Turbo and Athena rarely agreed on anything except fighting Cobras, so it came as no surprise when she muttered...

"This is bound to end well..."

---

The week before the war game had been filled not with trash-talk and attempts to eliminate the competition, this was G.I. Joe, that wasn't needed or wanted...

But the 'you're gonna lose' looks and the like were pervasive. Even Leatherneck and Wet-suit were almost... cordial to each other.

There was gonna be a showdown.

---

The standard issue weapon for the day was the XMLR-1A Laser Rifle, with modifications to each service's so that they shot colors corresponding to their branch. It was decided that Daina, Big Ben, Windcharger, and Warden would be the judges, since they weren't from any of the service branches taking part in the war game. The Navy/AF team was good, but the stealth of the Army's LRRP-trained members and the plain stubborn refusal to lose of the Marines had put them on the defensive after the first couple of hours had thinned their numbers.

Now Ace and Wet-Suit as leaders of their respective branches' teams were trying to decide how to turn the tide back in their favor.

"No, that wouldn't work... Windcharger and Kamakura might have been disqualified since they're not in the military, but Jinx and Snake-Eyes are on the other team... And I think Windcharger's been teaching Turbo about stealth, so he's another threat..."

"Thanks. I try to be."

The two leaders turned to look through the doorway of their command center and got the surprise of the game; as if summoned, the three they had been discussing were standing there.

"Don't bother with the alarm," Jinx told them, "Everyone's having a nice... nap."

Snake-Eyes turned and looked around the room before leaping overhead and upon landing on the other side of the room snatching the two-tone blue flag from its stand, causing a buzzer to sound on the Gauntlets of every Joe team member.

Just then, Ghostrider, Topside and several others came running down the corridor of the pre-fab field headquarters and stopped at the sight of their three enemies with the flag in their position.

Ace did a double-take, "I thought you said-"

"We bluffed. You just never tried to call it."

---

Three days later...

"HE CHEATED!"

"HE IMPROVISED!"

"CHEATED!"

"IMPROVISED, ADAPTED AND OVERCAME! IT'S NOT HIS FAULT YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

"I'M A WHAT?"

"EXACTLY!"

Walking by the door to the mess hall, Turbo groaned, "It seemed like such a good idea two weeks ago..."

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Never underestimate the ability of the brass to foul things up. (fyi: Brass officers)

---

Author's Closing Notes: In case you weren't able to tell, the foul up was that instead of answering the question, they just ended up having another reason to fight.


	3. Survival

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: First, Reviews...

MariaShadow: Probably, almost twenty years of G.I. Joe and they've never gotten along.

Tirya King: Thanks, I try.

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Three: Survival

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The first battle he had been in as Turbo, looking back on it, was nothing. Just the first of many battles against Cobra and the like that he had been in over the past five years. The first time he had dressed in costume, at the time it had been a risk, but worth it to save his teammates.

First death under his command? He'd never forget it, even if Honda was alive again because of one of Cobra's Bio-Engineering Labs.

He'd been scared out of his wits before, he wouldn't be human if he hadn't, his first times up with JUMPs and Air Assault gliders, the first time he had been injured in battle...

But nothing, nothing scared him like this.

For one of the few times in his life, Major John T. Magnus, codename: "Turbo", was truely frightened. There was no going back from this point...

He had survived Cobra, Hydra, the Red Skull, M.A.R.S. and the Iron Grenadiers, and countless other threats...

But they paled in comparison to this...

When the other involved party arrived, Turbo stood up and greeted him with a handshake.

"Mainfr- Blaine."

"Major."

"Have a seat."

"Thank you."

The usual pleasantries left Turbo with the feeling of the inevitable simply being prolonged. Even throughout the salad, the tension could be felt pounding in his head until finally...

"Well, Major... I'm sure you asked me here for a reason. Shoot."

In a slight effort to ease his own tension, Turbo muttered to himself, "Can't. Left my sidearm in my vehicle."

But aloud he simply replied, "It's about Ireland... and your daughter and I..."

My wife and I, he thought, God, telling their parents about what happened over there wasn't easy...

He'd almost rather be getting shot at...

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: If you survive the extraordinary things, it will often be the little things that will kill you.

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Author's Closing Notes: This may not be the most military chapter, but the idea crossed my mind and fit that law so well that I just had to write it up.


	4. Drill Instructors

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: First off, thanks to the other members of the Joeland list for helping me with the ideas for pranks on Beachhead and the others in this part.

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Four: Drill Instructors

---

Frontline had been together roughly one month and they already had something in common beyond their unit; there wasn't a one of them, Regular Military, Ex-Civilian, Officer or Enlisted, who wouldn't take on any enemy single-handed just to get their drill instructor to shut up with his yelling. Turbo's position as the unit's Commanding Officer and Ghostrider's rank of Colonel didn't mean anything during PT, and so they all had been forced to bare Beachhead for four weeks of hell.

So it was decided that until they were sent to wage war against Cobra, they would do so against the man assigned to train, or in some cases re-train them. They were now in their fifth week of existance as a unit and about to make their main attack against their target. Until now it had been irritants, skimishes, now they were aiming to do some damage.

---

For once, Frontline didn't mind the 0430 reville that Beachhead insisted on... especially since it was marked today by the sounds of "Sweet Home, Alabama" coming loudly over the PA speakers. Moments later, the Look of Death that he was leveling at the assembled team because of the morning wake-up call wasn't really getting the result it normally did. The fact that his usual dark green balaclava had been replaced with a pink knit ski-mask might have had something to do with it. Even the assorted brutal verbalities the sergeant was spewing weren't enough to keep the snickers at bay.

Because he outranked Beachhead and had the shortest record of practical joking in the unit, Ghostrider was the safest one to comment when the 'lecture' ended and Beachhead tried to, and failed to pick up his rifle.

"Is something wrong, Sergeant... Slippery Weasel?"

No one knew where the 'slippery weasel' came from, but the axle grease that was preventing Beachhead from picking up his rifle had been taken by Fix-It from one of the team's Humvees the night before. The rest of the day continued in much the same fashion.

And Beachhead said nothing further the entire day, which made the other members of Frontline nervous...

---

Two days later, as a team of pink-tinged Frontliners wearing bleached white uniforms - which was strange since beyond jungle pattern fatigue pants, which themselves were really just an unofficial uniform, there was no set uniform for the team - and carrying black broom and mop handles that they had been informed were their new assault rifles due to 'budget cuts' stood in formation before him, Beachhead calmly informed them of every mistake they had made in their pranks earlier that week.

Finally, he ended simply with, "...And your biggest mistake, maggots? You actually thought you could do better than ME."

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: For every action there is an equal and opposite criticism… in boot camp.

---

Author's Closing Notes: Review replies...

MariaShadow: Oh, yeah... Maybe even two battalions and a spare company.

Tirya King: Thanks. I should warn you, though, a lot of my stories involve my own OCs.


	5. Supplies

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: I have no clue where the idea for the backstory of this part came from...

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Four: Supplies

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Subj: G.I. Joe Team Daily Announcement

Time: 1436Z

The Command Staff and the Kitchen Staff would both like to request that whoever keeps taking all of the donuts to please stop doing so. Those are there for EVERYONE, people. We know it's not Zarana or Zandar since it's the chocolate-frosted donuts, not the jelly donuts that are being taken, so don't bother trying to accuse them.

We WILL be launching an investigation into these repeated thefts!

Sparks.

---

Personal Journal; Turbo.

Can you believe that they accused me of stealing the chocolate donuts? ME? ME, Major John T. Magnus, "Turbo"!

I must be slipping, two years ago, no one would even have noticed they were missing until days later. Of course, there was only a dozen or so of us two years ago, so it was easier to hide since there were longer periods of time between when people wanted the donuts...

Hey, you know I'm a bit addicted to those things.

Thank God that I've gotten good at bluffing, otherwise I would've been caught years ago. It helps to be blatant about it, no one notices when the XO walks right out of the mess hall with a box or two of donuts in hand. Of course, with more Joes that also means there's more inquisitive members as well. I wound up spending a good part of the day being as far away from the Mess Hall as possible, excluding the 'investigation' as part of the Command Staff.

Now this journal entry will be faxed to my apartment back in Georgia and all traces of it here at the Pit will be eliminated.

Admit nothing and destroy the evidence, two of the most important rules of breaking the rules.

Now let's see... which one of the Greenshirts has gotten farthest on my bad side this week?...

---

Personal Journal; Athena.

Turbo's not as smart as he thinks he is. No one innocent goes that far out of their way to look it, if he wanted people to think he didn't take the donuts, he should have hung around the mess hall all day like everyone else was doing. Of course, if anyone asks him about it, he reminds them that he's part of the Command Staff and is having someone look into it.

First thing anyone looking into it should do is have Lifeline look into the contents of that jerk's stomach.

That's him, deny everything.

---

Ghostrider was leaning against the wall as he informed Turbo of what he had found.

"Interesting how you knew that there'd be empty boxes in Private McMichaels' barracks," he added with a raised eyebrow when he finished.

"Yeah, interesting."

"By the way, you have chocolate on your lip."

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Admit nothing, deny everything, demand proof, then blame a Private.

---

Author's Closing Notes: Yes, I know, for a character who's supposed to fade into the background Ghostrider gets a lot of usage in my stories... What can I say? I like the guy. I mean, who HASN'T wanted to disappear in school?

Review Responses:

Tirya King: I know, I was just warning you in case you were reading other G.I. Joe fanfics and were wondering where some of the characters were.

K.A. Maples: Droll I take it you think the story's funny?

trecebo: Yeah, a fellow member of Joeland gave me some good ideas for pranks to play on Beachhead, then I decided to turn a few of them around and let Beachhead have his revenge.

MariaShadow: Too true, too true.


	6. Tracer Rounds

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Six: Tracer Rounds

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Turbo stepped into the room in the Infirmary feeling guilty. No matter what anyone else said, it was still his fault, he had sent Low-Light out on that mission and until the wounded Joe himself told his commander otherwise, he was going to feel like crap about it. It was supposed to be a simple mission for the sniper he was proud to consider a friend, Low-Light was to fire tracers to mark a spot where a unit of Cobra Range Vipers were suspected of having a supply cache and guide a squad of Greenshirts in to capture it and wait for the Range Vipers so that they could bring them down as well.

If he ever met the guy, Turbo mused, he was going to hurt Murphy.

Range Vipers were, next to the Alley-Vipers and the Cobra Officers, the best-trained units that remained in the Cobra legions. They actually knew how to survive, observe, plan and act without needing someone else to tell them how and what. In this case, the unit they were after had seen the tracers being fired and, instead of going to where their former supplies and the G.I. Joe Greenshirts waited, had made their way to where Low-Light's sniper's nest was.

They had barely gotten there in time to keep him alive.

That had been two weeks ago and the sniper had just woken up hours ago. While all of this went through his mind, he had been standing in Low-Light's room in the Infirmary silently. Finally, after several more minutes, he broke his silence.

"I'm not gonna bother asking you how you feel."

"Next time," Low-Light forced out with a half-smirk, "You can fire the tracers."

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Tracers work both ways.

---

Closing Author's Notes: Yes, I know, short and serious.

Review Responses:

MariaShadow: Thanks, I thought that was nice myself.

K.A. Maples: Okay... have fun and be careful?

trecebo: MY chocolate donuts!


	7. Deception

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws... Cpl. Fred "Fix-It" Johnson, is my own creation, though.

Author's opening notes: This started as an attempted at a seasonal story around Halloween. For some reason, I couldn't really pull off the Halloween vibe, but it was too good to throw out, so it became this.

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Seven: Deception (Or "Halloween Every Day")

---

Halloween's at the end of this month...

No, All Hallow's Eve is at the end of this month, Samhain is at the end of this month. Halloween is a holiday where you dress up in costume and make people believe you're something you're not. For me, any day I'm off is Halloween.

I have to convince people I'm not a soldier, not hard since most don't know.

Who's Fred Johnson after all? Just a low-grade mechanic who lucked into a job on the NASCAR circuit with the great Lance Steinburg as his boss. No one knows that he can drive and repair the Fortress America reconfigurable disruptor tank, one of the most advanced weapons in existance, no one know that he carries a machine gun when he's not wrenching in the Motor Pool.

No one knows that when my leave is done or when the call comes in, I shed the costume of Fred and take on my real identity.

Corporal Fred Johnson, codename "Fix-It" of Special Anti-Terrorist Task Unit Delta, Frontline Squad.

I talked about it with some of the others and a lot of them feel the same way. In Frontline we have a freedom to be ourselves.

Turbo is one of the youngest of us, but he can let the knowledge of military tactics and leadership loose without fear.

Rev and Honda are on the side of the angels, as the saying goes, but they can use the skills they learned on the Detroit streets

And I get to mess around with vehicles that most people haven't even imagined yet, X-22 Storm Eagles, the Fort America, VAMPs, RAMs, Assault Gliders and JUMPs...

And then I dress up in cover-alls and an old ball cap and try to blend in every weekend or other with every other mechanic in the pits.

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: "All warfare is based upon deception." -- Sun Tzu (The Art of War)

---

Closing Author's Notes: Note my usual addition to the Greenshirt's Guide, but as I said, it was laying around and I didn't want to trash it, and the Law of Warfare fits...

Review Responses:

Tirya: Thanks, I'm kinda partial to that line myself. And MASH is one of my influencing factors.

MariaShadow: I know. Even if the rest of the Guide is lighthearted, that part will always be there to remind us that it's not all fun and games, people do get hurt.

trecebo: You ever wonder if life is just a tv show and Murphy is the director?


	8. Drawing Fire

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Author's opening notes: Bonus points if you can guess what character from one of my other fandoms gets a semi-cameo...

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Eight: Drawing Fire

---

Combat. Everyone deals with it in their own way, prepares for it in their own way. Ghostrider and Zandar practice stealth, Fix-It usually deals with his nervousness by working in the Motor Pool, Sabre runs through some of his old football warm-ups...

My brother and me, we usually have some kind of banter going to distract us, sometimes including one or two of the others, in this case, Turbo.

"What's that you're listening to?" Rev asked.

Without looking up from his Wristcom, Turbo answered, "Jascz."

I cocked my head to one side and gave a small huh-sound, "It doesn't sound like jazz to me."

"Ha-ha," Turbo half-laughed - how anyone can only give half a laugh I don't know, but he did it - before continuing, "Yes, the pronunciation is the same, but no, it's not jazz, it's Jascz, J-A-S-C-Z. You know what his big thing was?"

I shook my head, how could I?

"I don't even know who he was," my brother added.

"He believed that music genres were outdated ideas that just served to segregate something that should be universal," Turbo explained, "He was... I won't say BIG in the eighties, but he had a following."

"Sounds interesting."

Turbo nodded, "Drowns out the bullets."

And that was what Turbo does to stay loose, he listens to music, all kinds. Before battle, during battle, he listens to music.

'Drowns out the bullets,' he said. I don't know where he gets that from, even at it's softest, you can still hear the music from his Wristcom and it draws attention to him. The bullets he says it drowns out probably wouldn't even be coming towards him if it wasn't for him playing the music in the first place. I can understand that the music gives him something to consciously focus on when he's in combat, going on automatic, but I think it's more than that...

I'm not a psychologist, but I come from the streets of Detroit, you learn to read people...

He takes point whenever possible and draws fire toward himself. Anyone else might say he's got a death wish, but in the short time I've been under his command I realized something - he's a mutant, his power is a healing factor, so he has a better chance of surviving being shot. He takes bullets so the rest of us don't have to.

Doesn't say much for his common sense, but it's a level of loyalty that I can like. Havoc and Blaze are his brothers by birth, but as far as he's concerned, we're all family.

My thoughts were interrupted when Beachhead knocked on the frame of the Rec-Room door, "Time, Major... Corporals."

Turbo turned the volume up on his Wristcom and then brought it back down, testing it before the fight.

"Let's go, boys."

I nodded as I stood up. He'd take a bullet for me, for my brother, for any of us, that's enough for me, to hell with his quirks.

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Don't be conspicuous, it attracts fire.

---

Review Responses:

MariaShadow: Thanks, I try.

Tirya King: You're right there. Can you imagine how annoying it must be to have to pretend to be less skilled than you really are?

trecebo: I'm sorry, did you say - Hey, was that someone opening a pack of Reese's Cups?


	9. Combat Readiness

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Author's opening notes: Sorry for the delay. I've also been working on my MASH story "Maggie-Beth" in addition to The Greenshirt's Guide.

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Nine: Combat Readiness

---

General Lawrence James Flagg the third was career military, came from a family of career soldiers, and he still was glad to leave Washington D.C. and the Pentagon behind and return to his base. Walking across the courtyard of the 'Chaplain's Assistant's Supply Depot' in the grey pants and black jacket of his G.I. Joe Class-A's, he returned the numerous salutes of the Greenshirts. No matter how much he just wanted to march to his quarters and drop his bag on the floor and himself on his bed.

Two hours in a Skystriker, and five in a meeting at the Pentagon before that, with another two hour Skystriker trip before the meeting, all of it had left him stiff, so once he entered the access hut that hid the personnel entrances to the Pit III, he chose to take the stairs down to the Joe team's barracks to stretch his legs and work out some of the day's tension. That was why he was in a foul mood when he heard the music and yelling coming from the Mess Hall and stormed in.

"What's all the damn racket in-oh."

The man known to friend and foe alike as The Tomahawk paused at the sight of the men and women under his command relaxing and having a party. After all he had been through, it was all he could do to keep command decorum and not join in.

He wasn't, however, able to keep from making a comment, a bad habit he had picked up from his second in command, "Have the cops showed up yet?"

Barricade, who was standing near the door gave him a look that one usually didn't give one's commanding officer, "This is a military base, Sir."

"Oh... Have the MPs showed up yet?"

Barricade scoffed at Tomahawk's attempted recovery, "'Yet'? They've been here the entire time. Last I checked, they and Tiger Force were having a drinking contest."

Whenever anything like that started there was a list of Joe who were usually to blame, and Tomahawk started at the top, "Shipwreck?"

"No, actually," Barricade answered, "This time it was Sureshot."

"Why aren't you taking part?"

"Don't drink, sir."

Tomahawk nodded, set his bag down by the wall, laying his cover and jacket on top, then started walking around the edge of the party. Almost by osmosis he could feel himself loosening up already by the time he reached where his second in command was on a cell phone. Even over the din of the goings-on, he could hear both sides of the conversation...

"Let me get this straight, you want twenty large supreme pizzas, two large pepperoni pizzas, two large pineapple pizzas, and one large onion pizza?"

"For pick-up, correct."

"That will be three hundred and thirty-four dollars and thirty-eight cents... Listen, if this is a prank, it's not funny."

"Ask the manager if it is."

Turbo hung up and turned to Torpedo, who was standing nearby shaking his head.

"You can always tell when they hire a new person."

"Surprised and questioning again, bra?" The Hawaiian-born SEAL asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep."

Neither of them had noticed Tomahawk's presence yet, and they were in the 'safety' of their headquarters, so both were scared out of their wits when Tomahawk dropped his hands on their shoulders.

"So, who's going out after the pizza?"

Turbo turned around, "Jes-uh..."

Torpedo recovered faster and saluted, "Welcome back, sir, ya?"

"Thank you, Chief," then he dismissed the formality, "So, who's going, Torpedo?"

"Jus' getting to that, sir... SPARKY!"

Sparks looked up from the computer he had with him, "Yeah?"

"Who's in the least amount of trouble in town?"

"Let's see... Turbo - speeding, big surprise there. Black-Out and Barrel Roll - the same. Gung-Ho - failure to yield a left turn and destruction of a police vehicle..."

"You mean 'police property'," Tomahawk clarified.

"No, sir, I mean a police vehicle - barehanded."

The general turned to look at the major, "Why am I the last to hear about these things? More than that, how do you keep these guys out of serious trouble?"

Turbo groaned, "Let's just say a little bit of money and a whole lot of community service."

"Wen he means is that he had to take Sheriff Wilpro's kaikamahine to her junior prom - and she not the prettiest young wahine in Diamond Dust."

There was a blink, then a pause from Turbo before, "You know what scares me, Jim," he said, referring to the Tomahawk by name, "I actually made sense out of that."

"And in the Greenshirts, Privates Jameson, Michaels, Thomas, Crane, and Hawke are not on the Christmas card list of our local law enforcement at the moment... Something about a wild party in town?" Sparks raised an eyebrow, "Other than that, we're in the clear. Who do you want to send?"

"I'll go," Tomahawk interjected, "It'll do me some good to get away from the military for even an hour."

"That bad in Washington, huh?" Turbo asked, leaning back against the wall.

It sometimes struck the general as odd that most of the Joes he confided in were half his age or younger, but it didn't really matter.

"Most of it was bull... how much fuel and ammo we use," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Our 'promoting of members of the armed forces without a proper board of review', I believe is how one of them put it."

"As if we didn't know they'd deny any promotion from Greenshirt Private to full G.I. Joe we put before them," Turbo snarled out.

"And our 'cavalier attitude towards valuable equipment' - That is, that we're willing to let tanks and jeeps that can be replaced be sacrificed instead of trained men and women who can't."

Torpedo spouted off a stream of mixed curses about the Jugglers that caused the others to take a step back.

"I don't understand half of what you said, Torps," Turbo commented, "But the half I do I agree with wholeheartedly."

"Well," Tomahawk said, indicating he wanted to drop it for now by changing the subject, "I better go 'volunteer' one of the Greenshirts to help me out on getting the pizza back here intact. Think I could trust you to see that my gear gets to my quarters intact, Tom?"

Turbo nodded, "As the Sea Bees say, sir, 'Can do.'"

Tomahawk smiled, to hell with what those underhanded, manipulating powermongers in Washington thought; his men were the best - period.

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: No combat ready unit has ever passed inspection.

---

Author's Closing Notes: If anyone's wondering how Shipwreck could be involved in a drinking contest between the MP/Urban Assualt unit of Joes and Tiger Force, in Brazil, Marajo (Probably misspelt it, "Sailor", I think is the translation...) was a member of Tiger Force using the v1 Shipwreck mold.

Also, there's an extra letter, but can anyone guess who Sheriff Wilpro is named after?

Review Responses:

Tirya King: Yep, it was Jazz... Two bonus points (what they can be used for is anyone's guess.). Though I think you got the characters mixed up; Turbo was the one with the music, Honda was the one making the observations.

MariaShadow: Yeah... If I ever get busy and get any of the regular stories written, you could see just how important the team is to Turbo.


	10. Threats

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Ten: Threats

---

He had waited six years for this moment, had renewed his vow five years ago and again one year ago...

He rarely carried grudges, but betrayal was one of the few things that he never forgot - an eternity could have passed and he would have still held true to his vow. He owed it to too many people - Jessica, who HE had almost killed, and had killed her innocence; Harry, who HE did kill; Reg, who had arrived just in time to see his brother take his last breath; himself, who had lost one friend to darkness and another to death at HIS hands.

For their sakes', for the sake of the soldiers whose code of honor had been broken by HIM... for the sake of the American people who had been abandoned by someone who had vowed to defend their country and Constitution...

For all of that, HE. Would. Die.

He had once read that revenge was a matter of passion, vengence of justice... It had been too long for it to be passion... Not that it wasn't involved, but just that it was secondary... It was justice.

He looked down at the blond with the scarred face...

He had given HIM that scar five years ago. He still remembered the words that had been spoken then, "'A life for a life-' '-And if neccessary, we'll collect a piece at a time.'"

But most of all, he thought, I owe it to Dan... the real Dan, the one who didn't lose who he is.

"You should feel lucky," He told HIM, "It's just me and a sword - swift. If it was me and two others in a Tribunal, you'd be hanging by the neck until dead.

Then the heavy bladed sword he wielded fell downwards...

----

Major John T. Magnus woke up, not with a start, but as though he had simply closed his eyes, and stroked the hair out of his wife's face. She was the lucky one. She had been hurt by Devastator far deeper than he had, and yet she somehow managed to deal with it far, far better.

He could feel the warmth of her breath mix with the cool of the air and dance over his skin in the darkness of the room. Tomorrow, Devastator could die tomorrow... or the next day, it didn't matter. He just knew that the traitor would die one day and hoped that he'd be there for it. That night, however, he pulled his wife to him just a little bit tighter and dreamt of better things, of better days - a winter in Ireland when warmth was a fireplace, blanket and the two of them in newfound love.

The man known as Turbo's last conscious thought before returning to that time and place in his mind was that one day, he'd prove that he had made a promise, not a threat...

You see, threats are made, promises are kept.

----

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Always honor a threat.


	11. Billets

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Eleven: Billets

---

Hello. I'm the embodiment of conflict and death. 'Where's your scythe'... If you only knew how often I've heard that one. Let's set one thing straight: The Grim Reaper is actually a delivery person, taking the souls of the dead to the afterlife. I'm the chooser, the one who decides who, when, where and why.

And as strange as it may sound, I want a piece of the pie. The pie chart of profits, that is. The Furies have comics based on them, or at least a girl taken in by them... The Grim Reaper has his own TV show for crying out loud... The Spirit of Vengence does bike stunt shows, and even though I don't know where the embodiment of Life is, even Cupid's human disguise is famous in the high school archery circles!

Where does all that leave me? Here. Wishing something would happen so I could decapitate someone... All because I pulled a Dread Pirate Roberts...

What? Can't I enjoy the classics?

In a way, I'm a lot like the Valkyries, I like to look into the faces of the ones I'm handing off to Grim. In a way, that's where I made my mistake. I'm not like Life or Vengence, always taking on human partners, I mean, I'm the Spirit of Conflict, life and death, right and wrong, desire and duty, I can't exactly do the partner thing since I'm supposed to be as neutral as possible.

I was there that night to decide whether or not it was a young man's time... By all rights, it should've been, but there was something about him - he wasn't afraid to die, he was willing to die if he had to, more than that, he was READY to die... but there was still a part of him that wanted to live.

I've existed since time immemorial, yet I had never seen such conflict:

He wanted to escape his past, but at the same time he was using it to drive him onward.

He had came from a background of privilege and rank, yet he never wanted anything he couldn't achieve on his own, although he knew that background had gotten him where he was.

There was a deep-rooted belief in true love, honor, justice and right and wrong, even though he had lost one of the things he used as a guide.

A desire to fight for the side of light existed, but there was a darkness in his soul that tempted him.

He was almost an embodiment of conflict himself. It... interested me, because not only was he in conflict himself, he surrounded himself with conflict. I suppose that's why I did what I did. Unknown to the youth I bonded with him, I gave him my power so that I might learn more about him.

What bothers me about it all is that he'd good with it, almost too stinkin' good with it. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was meant to have it.

But he wasn't...

Was he?

Nah...

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: The perfect officer for the job will transfer in the day after that billet is filled by someone else.

----

Author's Notes: I'm on a strange streak lately, it seems... Not my usual Guide fare, I know, but it came to mind. What can I say? I have an interesting outlook on things.


	12. Fraternization

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Twelve: Fraternization

---

"Where's Courtney?"

"I managed to bribe our beloved commanders to watch her by saying I'd see what I could do about getting them two days without the usual suspects being up to something."

"You put my little girl in the care of Magnus and Parker? With the way they argue, she's gonna be scarred for life, Lance."

"Shana, she's a ninja... I think of it less them looking after her than of Cass' babysitting those two - she's definately more mature."

As he pulled out his wife's chair so she could sit down at the table, it crossed Lance's mind that twenty years ago, when he was teasing this woman about using his rear-view mirror to fix her make-up and other similar things including exchanges of remarks like 'babe' and 'grease-monkey', he never would have predicted that they would one day be married.

They wouldn't be if it hadn't been for a million different things - if Snake-Eyes hadn't left her at the altar, if Snake-Eyes hadn't left her with a newborn to raise, if Lance himself had taken the job on the Indy circuit instead of going to work with Duke Family Racing on the NASCAR circuit, if the Dukes hadn't given everyone a few days off while at the Atlanta Motor Speedway while they went to visit their uncle, if he hadn't stopped in to visit Shana during that time off...

It took Lance a second to realize that if he didn't relax, he was going to break his glass. Unfortunately, if he had broken it, it wouldn't have been the first thing he had inadvertantly destroyed wishing it was Snake-Eyes. One thing above all others was all that kept him from doing it for real, above the law, above regulations, above being former and present teammates - that one thing was a ten-year-old blonde who loved all three of her parents; Courtney Allison Steinburg.

It almost reminded him of...

"What was that all about?" Shana asked when Lance started laughing.

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: "War is like love. To triumph, you must make contact." -- attributed to Napoleon

---


	13. Privates

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Thirteen: Privates

---

0630

Private Arnold Murphy groaned when, as usual, the Greenshirt wake-up call wasn't Reveille...

This time, it sounded like Rev had picked the song; yep, 'Wake Up, Little Susie', definately Rev's pick. Why did Greenshirts try to get promoted to full G.I. Joes? Murphy's guess was that it was mostly because the Joes were permitted, if they so chose, to sleep in an hour after the Greenshirts had to wake up... the bums...

0713

By morning chow, Murphy was beginning to think it was going to be a baaaaad day; Starduster had managed to pull morning mess duty, which meant that the order of the day would be illness. Gung-Ho or Roadblock were the perferred chefs, or Wild Bill's southwestern fare, hell, even Turbo's concoctions were better than what Starduster made. It didn't even deserved to be called cooking.

0744

As usual after Starduster was in the kitchen, the next stop for most of the Joes or Greenshirts was the Infirmary. Luckily for the poor souls who had to eat Starduster's food, Lifeline had long since come up with something to help them. With a groan, Murphy stood up from the bed and picked up his helmet.

"Thanks, Lifeline," Murphy commented, "Now I've got to run, if I'm more than three seconds late to the firing range, Ironhide's gonna have MY arm and leg."

0800:05

"Murphy! You are five seconds late. That, Private, is the time it would take some weapons to put five rounds right through your skull!" The Marine drill sergeant bellowed, the loss of the lower parts of his left arm and right leg hadn't lessened the man in any way, and their recent replacement with some kind of advanced technology cybernetics had made the lives of the Greenshirts he trained even worse.

For today's training, Murphy found himself teamed up with Privates Quintin McMichaels, Adam Jameson, Grant Crane, Nathan Hawke, and James Thomas, five other Greenshirts who often found their ways onto the hit lists of various Joes. It was supposed to be a simple 'extraction' element, then Ironhide began inflicting the simulated casualties; McMichaels found himself unconscious, Jameson with a broken leg, Crane with a broken arm, and Murphy himself ended up 'blind'. What had been a good team with a mix of Infantry, Medical, and even a Mechanic had ended up dragging themselves out of the course three hours later, the last unit to check back in and the only one to be 'volunteered' for an afternoon training element.

1107

"Man, I can't believe those Joes," Crane complained, "They don't do things fair."

Thomas leaned back in his chair, the six of them gathered in the quonset hut barracks they shared with several other low-ranked Greenshirts, "Course they don't, Cobra don't, Hydra don't... But you're right man, they change the rules so we NEVER win."

"Kobayashi Maru."

The others looked at McMichaels.

Murphy summed it up, "Huh?"

"Haven't you guys ever watched Star Trek? 'Kobayashi Maru,' the no-win scenario. We already know how to win, they're wanting to teach us what to do when that's not an option..."

Jameson tilted his head to the side, "Options, huh?"

"You got an idea, Jamie?"

"Yeah, but I'll need some things from the Motor Pool and Infirmary..."

McMichaels and Hawke nodded an affirmative...

1232

Luckily for Greenshirts and Joes alike, Turbo had managed to draw midday mess. Even though they were usually unorthodox, the unit second-in-command's meals were at least palatable, like that day's combination of mesquite chicken breasts, garlic bread and tea.

"So," Jameson said through a mouthful of chicken, "This Kirk James guy's idea was to change the rules, right?"

McMichaels nodded, "Right, but you've got his name backasswards, it's James Kirk."

1459

As the executive officer, Turbo found himself handling the dicipline for Task Unit Delta as a whole. Usually it was a major, no pun regarding his rank intended, pain, but incidents like the one he was dealing with now were the ones that kept it interesting.

"So let me make sure I'm getting this; when you became certain you couldn't finish the 'extraction,' you set off a series of MacGuyvered smokebombs and 'killed' yourselves and the team that was to 'prevent' your 'extraction'."

"Yes, Major," Jameson admitted.

"Took you long enough."

McMichaels burst out, "What!"

"It took you long enough. You can't always win, but you can always go down fighting. THAT's what being a member of G.I. Joe is about. Look, if you really want some kind of fancy explanation, go talk to Falcon and Cross-Country or Avalanche and Maverick, they know what I mean."

"So..." Murphy began, "We're not in trouble?"

Turbo knitted his fingers together and leaned forward, smirking...

1504

Murphy looked at the six ceiling-high piles of potatos in combined awe and disgust, "I think that guy's watched too many old war movies..."

His compatriats nodded and muttered agreement.

1800

After they had finished, Murphy looked at his hands in near-horror, "If I never see anothe potato, it'll be too soon..."

McMichaels shook his head, "With our luck? Dinner's gonna be potato soup or something..."

After saying goodbye to the others, Murphy headed back to the barracks to collapse for an hour before evening chow.

1941

On occasion, Murphy hated his barracks-mates, especially McMichaels. This was one of those times. While the Joes and the majority of the Greenshirts were getting to enjoy _Gumbo ala Gung-Ho, _the six of them were eating, while not potato soup, hash browns and salad.

"Why does the universe hate me?" Murphy muttered.

"The universe doesn't hate you," Crane said, picking at his salad, "Just the command staff."

"That's even worse."

2122

"You ever wish life was like that?" Murphy asked as they watched 'The Dirty Dozen'. Then he answered his own question, "No, we'd probably be the ones to end up getting killed..."

2300

When the time finally came, Private Arnold Murphy was all too glad to sack out. He'd need his strength for the next day, and the next, and the next, he'd need his strength as long as the law invented by another Murphy existed...

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Murphy was a grunt.


	14. Alcohol

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or it's associated characters... but if Hasbro ever decides to sell, you can bet I'll try to...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Thirteen: Alcohol

---

Three of the members of the elite "G.I. Joe" task force stood in a darkened room, gathered over a collection of containers and tubes baring a clear liquid that was slowly bubbling. Their names were J.T. Magnus, and Dwight and Thomas Stall, codenamed Turbo, Barrel Roll and Black-Out, respectively. At the end of one tube, the liquid gathered and Turbo let some of it fill his glass, then took a sip. Suddenly, he shook his head back and forth rapidly.

"You okay?" Barrel Roll asked.

"If it wasn't for my healing factor, I think I'd be dead right now."

"That's a GOOD sign," Black-Out commented.

"Yeah," Turbo agreed before taking a couple more sips, each going down easier than the last.

Then he looked at the other two and nodded before taking a large gulp. That caused him to collapse against one of the walls.

"Oh, yeah, it's ready."

----

The next day, Tomahawk and Sparks were discussing the reclusive, even for him, habits Turbo had taken up the last few days.

"I swear, General, that he was saying something to Barrel Roll about his mutant power and getting drunk."

"Sparks, he's your cousin, right?"

"Distant on our mothers' sides, sir."

"What do you think he's up to?"

"General, sir, this is Turbo we're talking about, remember?"

Tomahawk shook his head and rested it against his palm, "You're right, Corporal. Even only a few months has taught me that he's nuts."

"Turbo to all personnel, please report to the surface courtyard... This means YOU, Jim. You and Sparky can stop talking about me and just come up here and find out what I've been doing."

The two of them looked down at their Gauntlets.

"He scares me at times."

"You? How do you think I feel? I'm related to him."

----

On the surface level of the Chaplain Assistants' Supply Depot, an interesting sight was standing beneath the flag. The major and two specialists were dressed in clothing like the nineteen-thirties with barrels behind them and a table of cups in front of them.

Finally, after Tomahawk and Sparks had made their way to the front alongside Athena, Beachhead and others, Turbo spoke...

"Twenty days from now is Christmas, but today is almost as important a date in history..."

"Pearl Harbor?" One of the Greenshirts asked, confused.

"No, Murph, that's the seventh. Today's the fifth," Private McMichaels commented next to him.

"Correct, today is December Fifth... seventy years ago, this was a day that changed the nation..."

For several seconds, glances and muttered possibilities were passed throughout the gathered Joes and Greenshirts.

"...December Fifth, Nineteen-Thirty: The day the Twenty-First Amendment to the Constitution was signed," Black -Out picked up.

"Repeal of Prohibition," Barrel Roll finally explained.

With the mystery solved, laughter rippled through the group.

"Pick up a glass and drink to drinking," Barrel Roll said.

"And if you're Captain or lower in rank, that's an order," Turbo joked.

Even with three people serving, it took over half an hour before everyone had managed to get a drink and disperse into their seperate groups. After that, Tomahawk approached Turbo to talk.

"How'd you know, Tom?"

"I don't act like I normally do for a few days and if people aren't suspicious then _I _get suspicious, Jim."

"Well," Tomahawk said, looking at his cup, "You have a point there."

"Oh, I forgot, you don't drink, do you?"

Tomahawk smiled at the younger Joe, "I think I can this time, Tom. After all, we need all the little distractions from this fight we can get, don't we?"

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Beer Math -- 2 beers times 37 men equals 49 cases.

---

Author's Notes: I admit, I was inspired by watching "The Great Escape", but since G.I. Joe is a primarily American unit, Independence Day wouldn't be so easily forgotten, then the answer came to me in the form of another prison camp: Stalag 13 instead of Stalag 3B. Hogan's Heroes and "Today's one of our national holidays; repeal of Prohibition". The hard part of it all was finding out what the date was when the 21st Amendment was signed into law.


	15. Staff Meetings

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or it's associated characters... but if Hasbro ever decides to sell, you can bet I'll try to...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Fifteen: Staff Meetings

---

"Well, another month, another staff meeting," General Lawrence J. Flagg the third, codename 'Tomahawk', said, "Although I don't see how we can top the events of this last month. Three Greenshirts have been arrested over the past four weeks..."

Beachhead looked down at the table at that.

"...Somehow someone lost a sixteen million dollar airplane. Now, that'd be one thing if it was lost as in destroyed, but this one was lost as in it simply disappeared..."

Ace dealt the last card from his deck and groaned, a Dead Man's Hand; fitting.

Tomahawk turned to glare at Turbo, "And I do not EVEN want to know just HOW you managed to interfere with that television show. You should be thankful we were able to explain it as you being there to examine the possibility of that naval base being recommissioned."

Turbo shrugged, "Not far from the truth."

"And for the love of sanity, Major, would you please stop replacing Reveille with classic rock songs? I may not MIND Gary Puckett, but I'd prefer not waking up to him."

"Okay, any requests?"

"Tom, you may think I'm kidding, but I'm not."

"Understood, General... Who on base wears leopard-spotted bikini-style underwear?"

The unexpected question threw everyone in the room except for Sparks, who saw it too, off.

"What does that have to do with anything, Speedy?" Athena sniped.

Turbo shrugged, "Because they're at half-mast and rising."

Sparks glanced down the table at Turbo and nodded, then the two cousins rose to their feet... and saluted the flagpole out in the Pit's main courtyard. Unsurprisingly, Ace and Clutch followed suit. Finally, even Beachhead did so.

"Gentlemen... Salute the shorts," the Ranger commented, snapping to.

"You know," Tomahawk thought out loud to himself, "Some units go for months without incidents... This one is lucky to last more than a few hours."

Dropping his salute, Turbo chuckled, "Good luck, Jim. Hey, Beach, remember that one training session back when Frontline was formed?"

The drill instructor nodded as he reclaimed his seat, "Even if I forgot, I don't think Go-Shooter would. Poor guy had just arrived and within the first two minutes he thought we were nuts."

"He was right," Athena grumbled.

"You know," Turbo retorted, "I wish you had taken after your parents, you'd have a mind to lose."

'You know,' Clutch passed on a note across to Beachhead, 'I think they like each other. They remind me of Scarlett and me... or even you and Cov'.'

'I'm gonna hurt you after this meeting,' was Beachhead's reply, 'which is lucky for you. They'd probably do worse if they found out you'd said that.'

"Ahem! As I was saying, Sergeant, there was also that incident in town involving Black-Out and Barrel Roll..."

"Otherwise known as the demons of brutality and depravity," Turbo quipped.

"...And about fifteen thousand in damages... What the hell were they doing, trying to jump a car like that?"

"Well, we had been watching this show about a bunch of modern-day Robin Hood types and talking about some of the stunts. One of us, me, I think, commented about a car being thrown into the air and flipped sideways by hitting things like other cars and crates. Ike thought it could really be done, and Thomas disagreed and..."

"Stop, I don't want to know anymore," the general interrupted

"But I haven't even gotten to the best part," his second-in-command countered.

"That's it," Tomahawk said, "Meeting adjourned."

As quickly as possible, the command staff was out of the meeting room and headed out of the building. By the time they were at the front entrance, though, everyone looked out across the parking area in front of the building to the large human-shaped balloons in front of them, then opened up their wallets.

"Pay up," Beachhead smirked.

"Yeah, yeah," Turbo said, "You win this month..."

The command staff continued to look up.

"They've gone too far, this time," Tomahawk said lowly...

---

Magnus' Law of Warfare: Monthly command staff meetings are basically sergeants and officers trying to decide who has to deal directly with the bigger bunch of lunatics.

---

Author's Note: To see what happens to the Greenshirts for their stunt, read my other story "How To Slaughter Greenshirts With Really Trying". 


	16. Down Time

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or it's associated characters... but if Hasbro ever decides to sell, you can bet I'll try to...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Sixteen: Down Time

---

The Tomahawk was walking the corridors of The Pit, headquarters of Special Anti-Terrorist Task Unit Delta. He had nothing better to do, so he was just walking the corridors of the underground base...

He'd regret doing so.

Standing outside the rec room, he listened in as his second in command and several others prepared for a movie marathon.

"Okay, we've got Spaceballs, Super Troopers, all three Kung-Fu Rabbit movies, Wayne's World, and..."

"And what?" asked a voice Tomahawk recognized as one of the snipers, Low-Light.

"Here's a hint," Turbo answered, starting to sing, "'We're men..."

Barrel Roll caught on and picked it up as Tomahawk looked around the wall and into the room, "'We're men in tights...'"

Sci-Fi popped up from behind the couch in front of the TV and putting his arms on the back added, "'We roam around the forest looking for fights!'"

As the gathered nuts continued singing, Tomahawk quickly made his way as far away as possible towards one of the other rec rooms. Inside, Firewall was introducing Daina to the all-American past-time of mocking bad TV shows and movies.

"Woooooo!"

"Okay, Firewall, let me get this straight. You watch terrible shows and make fun of them the whole time? This is fun for Americans?" The Russian-born sniper asked.

"Yup! Oh, look, The Breakfast Club is on, I LOVE this movie!"

Tomahawk kept walking, shaking his head and wondering again why he had been selected to lead this bunch and again reaching the conclusion that the only reason that made sense was because his father had been the unit's original commanding officer. Unfortunately for everyone, he wasn't his father and the current Joes might have included the previous team, but there were a lot more members that weren't.

Walking down the corridor the computer lab was on, he passed Airwave and Scoop and returned their salutes. After passing each other, they heard a noise like a 'hyah' and the three turned to look at each other, then at the computer lab door.

Through the door, they heard Mainframe's voice saying strange things, "Praying Mantis at the Gates of White Castle! Stinging Fish in Your Pants!"

For a moment, the three in the hall looked at each other before Scoop commented, "You know, sometimes it amazes me that Lockdown and Athena turned out as sane as they did, especially with her mother's family..."

Airwave and Tomahawk nodded agreement before they continued on their ways. After a few more minutes, the general finally decided to stop by the mess hall kitchen to grab something to eat since he had missed evening chow because of paperwork. Once again, he ended up stopping in the doorway. Roadblock was cooking and Stringer, a cameraman who had become part of the team through association with Scoop, was recording it.

"What," he asked the two Joes, "Are you doing?"

Stringer shrugged and rested his camera on his shoulder, "We're trying to make a cooking show video, sir."

"Oh, carry on... Any coffee made?"

"Counter on your left, sir," Roadblock informed him.

"Thanks... And Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"Good luck," Tomahawk informed him before he walked out.

Outside, he looked down at his coffee before heading to his office, maybe he could write up his own transfer and slip it in with the next batch of orders to be sent to the Pentagon's Special Operation Command. Maybe General Hawk wouldn't catch this one before he got out of this nuthouse...

---

Magnus' Law of Warfare: What their troops do on their down time is often not something a commanding officer should know. 


	17. New Recruits

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Seventeen: New Recruits

---

Turbo just leaned back and looked at him. Greenshirt Private Arnold Murphy, eternal leader of almost any troublemaking or prank scheme in the ranks of G.I. Joe's Greenshirt support troops, for his part just looked back. Behind Murphy, the rest of his squad stood waiting for the unit's executive officer to pass judgement.

"Well?"

"It was worth it. Whatever we get for it, Major, it was worth it," Murphy responded.

"When a new squad of Greenshirts didn't listen to you and your team and ended up getting you all 'killed' during a training element, you responded by gopher-trapping their barracks before inspection, is that correct?"

Grant Crane, one of the other Privates in the room muttered under his breath, "I wouldn't say we gopher-trapped them, more like submarined."

"I see," Turbo said, having heard Crane's remark, "So you submarined them."

The six Greenshirts looked at each other, then nodded, and Murphy spoke, "Yes, Major."

"Hm. Any of you know Gilbert and Sullivan?"

"You mean Mike and Jake over in Delta Squad?"

"No, Private, I mean the composers who wrote a little thing called 'Let The Punishment Fit The Crime'... Yes, let the punishment fit the crime..."

Six gulps were heard.

"Sparks," Turbo said into his Gauntlet, "Come in here, please."

"Coming, Turbo."

The door between the Executive Officer's office and the main administrative office opened and the unit's Chief of Staff entered, his own Gauntlet with its connection to the Pit's computer system at the ready.

"You called?"

"Sparky, list Greenshirt Privates Murphy, Crane, McMichaels, Jameson, Hawke and Thomas as each being promoted to full G.I. Joe status with the rank of Corporal, pending a promotion review board."

Murphy gulped again, "Couldn't we talk this over, Major? I mean, really, promoting us is kind of drastic."

Turbo leaned forward and gave the half-grin/half-smirk that had become infamous in both halves of Task Unit Delta, "You want to act like G.I. Joes, you get to get shot at like G.I. Joes. I expect you to have submitted your codename requests to Corporal Fine by oh-nine-thirty tomorrow... Joes."

Hawke winced, "That hurts, Major, that really hurts."

---

It had been simple to begin with, Able Squad, made up of Greenshirt Privates Arnold Murphy, Quintin McMichaels, Adam Jameson, Grant Crane, Nathan Hawke, and James Thomas, had been one of the first squads of Greenshirts pulled from the other service branches to support the primary members of Special Anti-Terrorist Task Unit Delta, better known as 'G.I. Joe'. The Greenshirts had their own chain of command from the privates up to Captain Oliver 'Ollie' Lance, but due to the table of organization of Task Unit Delta as a whole, even a G.I. Joe Corporal (one of the few ironclad requirements for being a full G.I. Joe was the ranks of E-2 or above, equivilent for the occasional Joe Team member that was on loan from another country's forces such as Daina from the Czech Armed Services or the British SAS's Big Ben), such as Cover Girl in the Motor Pool, technically outranked any of the Greenshirts, Captain Lance included.

Recently, another squad of Greenshirts had been added, and much to the annoyment of the more established squads, Privates Chapel, Trane, Griffon, Sims, Nevada and Tucker of the newly-formed Purple Squad were arrogant, egotistical, loud- and foul-mouthed, and self-absorbed. They were frequently referred to in muttered remarks by the other squads, especially the original teams of Able, Baker, Charlie, Delta, Easy and Fox Squads, in very unflattering terms that no one was willing to repeat out-loud, but most agreed with.

The other Greenshirt squads had tried to get aquainted with them, but were rebuffed. Then they had simply tried to get them to stop acting like they were the only people on the planet, and were told in no uncertain terms what they could do. The last straw came in when Able, Bulldog and Purple Squads were placed opposite Delta, Might and Grey Squads in a training element devised by Turbo, Low-Light, Outback and Beachhead in which the Able/Bulldog/Purple team simply had to hold a position with limited equipment against the Delta/Might/Grey team, which was well-equipped, until 'reinforcements' could arrive. Able and Bulldog Squads had taken their positions and were holding back the other side without any trouble when Purple took it upon themselves to launch a 'glory charge' against the other team, resulting in the loss of formation among the defenders, the near-immediate loss of the whole of Purple Squad due to the foolishness of a head-on assault, and with the subsequent out-numbering and out-flanking of Able and Bulldog Squads, the loss of the exercise.

Able Squad decided it was time to take action.

Using the behind-the-scenes connections of G.I. Joe members Barrel-Roll and Black-Out, they had managed to aquire more string, balloons, shaving and whipped creams, and chocolate syrup than was sanely possible to prepare for their plan. The next step wasn't that hard considering their abilities in getting into trouble. They got on Ironhide's nerves just enough for him to assign them summary KP duty, which allowed them to be out of barracks after lights out and slip into the hut where Purple Squad was billeted. They almost got caught when a member of Brown Squad woke up and saw them go past, but since Purple Squad had gotten on everyone's nerves, a wink was all they got before the Brown Squad member rolled over and pulled his blanket over his head. It took some doing to make sure that no members of the other eleven squads in the quanoset hut barracks would be affected and that the six members of Purple Squad didn't wake up, but Able Squad managed to pull it off in time to get to their own barracks and get some sleep before morning roll call...

---

"Well," General Lawrence James Flagg, the third, codenamed "Tomahawk", looked at his lead staff members, "Shall we begin?"

"Where do you want to start?" Top Sergeant Jessica Parker, codename "Athena", asked.

"Personally," Turbo comment, "I'd like to start with barracks eight and find out why one of its squads isn't formed."

Tomahawk looked around and nodded, the Greenshirt formations weren't complete, "Agreed, Major."

The three command-level Joes were not happy when, upon entering barracks eight, they found the missing squad soaking wet, covered in whipped cream, with their area covered in shaving cream and chocolate sauce.

The gigging Purple Squad received immediately became legendary among the Joe Team and Greenshirt Squads.

Unfortunately for Private Murphy and Able Squad, it wasn't hard for Turbo to track down the culprits of the prank on Purple Squad; all of the Joes were accounted for and Able was the only Greenshirts with that level of pranking ability...

That's when Able Squad was called into his office.

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: The only thing more dangerous to you than your enemies is your allies. 


	18. The Enemy

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

---

A Trooper's Guide to Cobra Life  
By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Eighteen: The Enemy

---

"What are they doing?"

Cobra Trooper Roger Burne turned to look at Trooper Max Dyne, "What?"

Dyne shrugged, "I said what are they doing now?"

Burne groaned, "I am so sick of you asking that same question, Princess!"

"Hey, you have the stupid scope, I can't see a thing! Do you expect me to sit around for hours on this stupid mesa overlooking the Joe base and play tic-tac-toe in the sand or something?"

Burne couldn't believe it, they had been on this assignment long enough that he knew the members of G.I. Joe by sight if not by name.

"They're doing the exact same thing our guards do, they're standing there talking. The guards yesterday stood there and talked, the guards tomorrow will stand there and talk, unless something happens, they're always going to be standing there talking. Next time you ask me what they're doing, you'll get the same answer - standing there talking."

Dyne waited a few minutes, "What do you think they're talking about?"

"I hate you."

Almost an hour later, Dyne broke the silence again, "What's that?"

Burne looked through his scope, "Looks like a car or something, a jeep, maybe, custom job... We'd better report it."

"Man," Dyne grumbled, "We're part of an army of thousands, they're what? Fifteen men? Are the Humvees they've got not good enough? Why do they get a tricked out car?"

"What are you whining about? Cobra Command's sending us a STUN, remember?"

"There's two of us at this outpost, do you know how to operate a STUN?"

Burne paused a moment, "Not really."

"I don't know how to operate a STUN."

"What? What good's a STUN that niether of us know how to operate?"

"Maybe they'll send us a Moto-Viper too?"

"Dude, this is Cobra Command, they barely send us enough ammo and you're expecting them to supply an outpost that doesn't even have an Officer with a Viper specialist? You're an idiot."

---

"What are they doing?"

Lieutenant Steve Johnson, codename "Brick", groaned, "What are they always doing, Rev? They're watching us and talking, they're always watching us and talking..."

"What do you think they're talking about?"

Beachhead stuck his head out of the door of the middle of three quanset huts that hid the G.I. Joe headquarters The Pit, currently in use by G.I. Joe: Frontline, "Get in here!"

---

Murphy's Law of Combat: If the Platoon Sergeant can see you, so can the enemy.

---

Author's Note: I REALLY need to stop watching Red vs. Blue in the middle of the night...


	19. Incoming Fire

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Author's Note: This follows my short story "How To Slaughter Greenshirts Without Really Trying", so it's best if you read that first.

---

A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life By J.T. Magnus, "Turbo"

Part Nineteen: Incoming Fire

---

Scarlett was walking down the hall with her iced tea in hand, glad to be finally free of Sgt. Slaughter running the Pit like a Slaughterhouse as he had the past week when a shot sounded out of nowhere and the wall in front of her was suddenly turned a shocking shade of pink by the impact of the projectile.

"Sorry, Shana!" Sci-Fi shouted, paintball gun in hand, "I was aiming for the wrestler."

The Atlanta-born redhead nodded, "Carry on, Sea."

Sci-Fi nodded back and turned down the hallway that the drill instructor had taken.

"Come on, Sarge, a big bad Marine like you is afraid of a little paint?" He taunted Sgt. Slaughter, passing by Leatherneck and Wet-Suit in another one of their 'lively' discussions, this time over Misfits versus Holograms.

"You got a problem with Marines, Laser-Boy?" Leatherneck snapped, turning.

Sci-Fi leveled the paintball gun right at Leatherneck's mid-section and ran his free hand through his hair, "One Marine at the moment, but right now I have no problem about shooting a different one as a warm-up, Jarhead."

"Who are you calling a Jarhead, Lamebrain?"

Wet-Suit chuckled, "Hey, moron, you ARE a Jarhead."

"Shut up, Squid-boy," Leatherneck retorted, distracted from Sci-Fi by his favorite hobby - arguing with his friendly nemesis from the SEALs.

Sci-Fi shook his head as he continued down the hallway, gun in hand, those two were crazier than the detective and Mountie on that one tv show. Coming to an intersection, he slowed down as he heard movement, pressing himself against the wall...

"I've got you this time, you reject from a forest fire prevention ad..."

Drawing a bead on the hat-wearing figure, Sci-Fi fired...

"What the hell?" Wild Bill shouted, "Who's shooting at my best hat?"

Trying not to turn red in embarassment, Sci-Fi slipped away and promised silently to see about getting Wild Bill a new hat as he took a different route to follow Sgt. Slaughter. He had travelled along several corridors before he realized that he didn't know where his PT-obsessed target was. He did, however, know who would know.

"Sci-Fi to Sparks," Sci-Fi whispered into his Gauntlet.

"Talk to me, Sea," the team's chief-of-staff, operations officer, and general all around 'if something happens around here and I DON'T know about it, worry'-man answered.

"Where's the Sergeant DeSade?"

"Sergeant DeSade... Gonna have to remember that one, Sci-Fi," Sparks laughed, "Let me see... DIs... Ironhide, Beachhead...There he is, level three, looks like he's heading for his quarters."

"Think you could seal him out?"

"Well, actually..."

"Twenty-four pack of Canadian beer in it."

"...No problem," Sparks answered without missing a beat, "Consider him locked out."

"Good..." Sci-Fi said lowly, smiling evilly, "Good..."

It took Sci-Fi a few minutes, but he made it to the barracks part of level three. There he was, alternating between pounding on the door to his quarters and cursing Sparks over his Gauntlet, Sci-Fi looked again, this time he wasn't making a mistake. Carefully, he took aim and a paintball splattered dead-center on the Sarge's back.

Sci-Fi hadn't pulled the trigger yet...

---

Low-Light smirked, if his goggles hadn't been covering them, the satisfied look would have continued on up to his eyes. Any day where the target was hit and he was never seen was a good day for Cooper McBride...

---

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Incoming Fire Has The Right of Way 


End file.
